Chapter 4 - THE BULLET CAME FROM A PLACE ONLY A SOLDIER WOULD CHOOSE
Rex moved before I did.
He hit the ground and pulled toward the concrete wheel stop as another round snapped past us.
“Down!” I yelled.
Cole dove behind his cruiser.
I dragged the wounded deputy by the back of his vest until we had the engine block between us and the shooter.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
“Through and through,” I said. “Stay with me.”
He clenched his teeth.
“I’m trying.”
Cole crawled toward us.
“Shooter’s east ridge.”
“No.”
“What?”
I pointed toward the opposite tree line.
“Echo came from east. Round came west.”
Cole stared at me.
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve heard enough rifles to be sure.”
A third shot hit the cruiser windshield.
The angle was high.
Elevated position.
Water tower.
I looked up.
A red aircraft light blinked above town.
“There.”
Cole grabbed his radio.
“All units—”
I slapped it down.
“No radio.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because whoever set this up knew when I entered your jail, where Rex was being held, and exactly when the power went out.”
The wounded deputy breathed, “He’s right.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“Who has access?” I asked.
“Half my department.”
“Then half your department is too many.”
A vehicle engine roared in the distance.
The shooter was leaving.
Rex suddenly pulled hard against my hand.
He had caught something.
“Track?” I whispered.
His ears rose.
Cole shook his head. “You are not chasing an armed sniper with a dog.”
“Good thing I’m not asking.”
I followed Rex through the drainage ditch behind the jail.
We moved fast beneath the tree line.
Two hundred yards later, Rex stopped beside a patch of trampled weeds.
Fresh boot marks.
Oil.
Gun solvent.
And blood.
Not much.
Maybe the shooter had cut himself climbing down.
Rex tracked it to a dirt access road.
Tire marks ended there.
Something metallic glinted in the weeds.
I picked it up.
A challenge coin.
My chest tightened.
One side showed an eagle over a dagger.
The other carried six names.
Five belonged to men I had served with.
One belonged to a man I had buried.
Elias Ward.
Eli.
My best friend.
The man whose blood I had held inside his body with both hands while he died.
Cole reached us, breathing hard.
He saw the coin.
“What is it?”
I turned it over.
Someone had scratched a fresh message across the edge.
YOU LEFT HIM THERE.
My phone started ringing from inside Cole’s pocket.
He had taken it during booking.
The screen showed one name.
Sarah.
Cole handed it to me.
I answered.
My wife was crying.
“Jack,” she whispered, “someone is inside our house.”
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